The Minutia Maven has a fascination for topics that are so trivial that no sensible person would care about them. They might scrutinize pennies to identify when they were minted, politely ask about ISBN codes on the book you're reading, or crawl on their hands and knees in a grassy field while identifying as many species of insects as possible. They are generally harmless and always exceedingly polite. THeir eccentricity may mark them as imaginative, but the vastly limited scope of their interests is a sign of their preference for a limited world.
Like some species of Autumn People, the Maven is often fond of lengthy bus rides, long hot nights at donut shops, and benches in the park. They will also politely introduce themself to passers-by, assuming that they will be as fascinated by their topic as they are.
Mavens often have a vast collection of sensible objects to assist them in their tasks. They commonly prefer to have many pockets and are known to favor magnifying glasses, port around reference books, and take pictures of unusually dull specimens.
I distinctly remember an encounter with a Maven on a long bus ride in Seattle. She had mistaken a shiny piece of round metal on the floor of the bus for a dime. After scrutinizing it through both lenses of her bifocals, examining it with a large magnifying glass, and tasting it briefly, she presented it to five different riders on the bus and asked for their opinions on wether the object was in fact a dime or a piece of scrap metal. She then proceeded to extol the virtues of dimes minted in Denver over those minted in Washington, explain how to make tiny pieces of metal especially shiny, and complain that nothing really valuable could be purchased for a dime anymore.